


The GO Game

by Lunasong365



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Canon-Compliant, Gen, game-playing, go, possible explanation for the whole setup of the book
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 07:30:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9224984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunasong365/pseuds/Lunasong365
Summary: It wasn’t the first time God and Satan wagered on the outcome of a setup.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Go is an ancient game thought to have originated in China 3K-4K years ago. It is a strategic game of territory played in alternate turns by laying black or white stones.
> 
> I like the idea of God and Satan getting together for a regular game night, drinking tea and discussing Life on Earth. It’s not unprecedented (see Bible: Book of Job). The black/white points-counting characteristics of Go play nicely into this. Plus: the acronym.
> 
> I’ve used the masculine gender for these beings because that is what is used in the Good Omens canon.

One day Satan and God were playing their weekly go game and Satan said to God, “Have you ever taken note of my star demon, Crowley?” He placed a black stone next to another to extend a position.

God looked up from contemplating the board. “He’s a difficult one to ignore. What about him?”

“There is none other like him in Hell or on the Earth. None is so diligent at completing his duties, wiling and corrupting all of humankind! He has more commendations than any other demon. Why, just a few short years ago, he started a construction project called the M25 that is already being called the road to hell. Wanna know what’s special about it?”

God placed a white stone to pincer Black. He steepled his fingers and smiled benignly at Satan. “Let me guess. Paved with door-to-door salesmen?”

Satan grinned devilishly in appreciation of the subtle joke. “He’s building it in the shape of the sigil Odegra in the language of the Black Priesthood of Ancient Mu.”

God chuckled in a somewhat patronizing tone. “That’s what he told you.”

“Oh, yes,” Satan continued. “As vehicles churn around it, they will sing out praises to Me – pervasive enough to outrival any of your Church of England smells and bells.” With satisfaction, he placed a black stone to capture three white stones, scooping them up with glee and adding them to his prisoner pile.

“I assure you that I can hear the faintest prayer from the heart of the smallest supplicant. English is not a requirement.”

“In fact, Crowley claims that there’ll be collateral damage – souls collecting a layer of tarnish just from the frustration of _driving_ on it! I’ve already given him a commendation for it!”

Raising an eyebrow, God commented, “Even before he’s finished it? He placed his white stone on a liberty to surround black. “Anyway, it doesn’t seem too sporting to be mass-damning souls like that just for commuting.”

Satan scoffed. “I’m not breaking any of the rules of free will. The humans are still individually choosing. Crowley’s just… found ways to _facilitate_ the decision.”

“Mmm-hmm,” hummed God. “As you well know, I also have an agent on Earth; one specifically assigned to thwart _your_ agent.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Satan chided. “How’s that coming along for you?” He sipped his tea as he watched God’s move. “List one thing he’s accomplished.”

God collected the black stones he’d just captured. “I can assure you that Heaven’s rewards program isn’t solely based on accomplishment, but on a sincere and believing heart that tries to get it right most of the time. In that, Aziraphale does quite well. Plus, his is more of a defense position. He’s pretty much allowed to do whatever he feels is necessary. I will admit,” here God suppressed a chuckle, “some of the things he feels are necessary are _quite_ inventive.”

Satan twiddled his thumbs with glee. “Inventive?! Crowley has your agent beat! How about a little contest?” He slapped down his black stone.

“Now, we haven’t had one of those since Job. And that involved a _lot_ of collateral damage.” A frown crossed his countenance as God thoughtfully studied the board.

“What about the Spanish Inquisition?” Satan leered as he juggled his stones from one hand to the other.

God placed a white stone to take a liberty from black. “In the end, you know that wasn’t either of us. It was the humans. Maybe, in that case, we _should_ have interfered.” He looked at Satan levelly across his teacup as he took a sip.

“Whatever. Draw. We’ll call that one a draw. Now, here’s what I’m proposing.“ Satan uncrossed his legs and leaned across the playing table. “I’ve got two Antichrists,” he said conspiratorially.

“Two?!” God feigned surprise.

“Yeah. Let’s call ‘em the heir and a spare. I’ll just pop the spare up to Earth and give it to Crowley. We’ll see just how far he can run with it.”

“Oh, I have no doubt he’ll run with it. Or away from it. Whatever the case may be,” God murmured to himself. He snapped his attention back to Satan. “So, where will this take place?”

“The transfer will take place in England, of course, because that’s where Crowley is based. But I’m going to make sure the Antichrist gets raised by Americans. Because everything about Americans is excessive. Their overblown military, their decadent entertainment, their outrageous consumption, their total disregard for...” He paused for a moment to lay a stone. “There’re Americans in England. I just have to find a really important and influential one. Like a high government official.”

“A diplomat, perhaps?” God offered.

Satan clapped his hands together. “Perfect!” he exclaimed.

“How about the cultural attaché? I hear that Americans have a _high_ regard for the arts and such. When he returns to the United States, I’m _sure_ it will be to a position of prestige and power.”

Satan looked suspiciously at God and rubbed the back of his neck. “For someone who wasn’t too keen on this, you sure have a lot of ideas.”

God leaned back in his chair, beaming as an aura of light seemed to surround him. “I always do. _Creative_ ones.” 

Satan scowled as he noticed he’d left a critical liberty uncovered on the grid. God noticed his covert glance and expression and took advantage, laying his stone and collecting the one Satan had just placed.

“What role will Aziraphale play?” God asked offhandedly.

“He’ll _try_ to thwart Crowley,” Satan responded assuredly. “My agent Crowley is so wily, there’s no way he’d fall for any of your angel’s influences.”

“Mmm,” God smiled affably. “You might be surprised. It’s a good thing the Devil only looks on the outward appearance, but you know what they say about Me… “

“Crowley hasn’t got a heart,” Satan snapped. He slapped down a stone with so much force the board jiggled, causing some stones to jump out of place.

“Never said he did,” God said. “I was referring to Aziraphale and his rather unassuming, dare I say, frumpy appearance and somewhat misdirected focus. Sometimes he doesn’t see what’s right in front of him. But,” he added with emphasis, ”I have no doubt that Aziraphale could thwart both the forces of Hell _and_ Heaven when he's faced with a decision about what _really_ matters.” The stones gently slid back to their previous positions.

“Okay, game _on_ ,” snarled Satan rather uncharacteristically, his competitive nature temporarily overpowering his generally amiable attitude on game days. “Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll devise the plan for Crowley to deliver the spare Antichrist to the U.S. cultural attaché; neither of us will say a word to our respective team members. We’ll just sit back and see how it plays out.”

“Agreed,” said God. “But no collateral damage this time. There needs to be a reset button.”

Satan hissed with a sharp intake of breath. “The reset button will be the Antichrist himself. Whatever he decides at endgame.”

God chuckled and held out his hand in agreement. “I’m willing to gamble on that. Now, shall we get back to _this_ game?” He gestured genially at the board.

His counterpart offered a resigned but toothy grin. Satan always did like the thought of a new game better than the conclusive results.


End file.
